Into Dust
by Twila Reaux
Summary: Jasper and Alice have reached the next step in their relationship, but Alice struggles to come to terms with his checkered past.


**Hey, all! Here's another one-shot with Alice and Jasper. This one covers some thoughts Alice has before she and Jasper consummate their relationship for the first time. I always thought that Jasper's experience with Maria would weigh heavily on poor Alice's mind, so I hope I captured that. And I hope you enjoy it!**

**I had two inspirations for this story. The first was the song "Into Dust" by Mazzy Star. I posted a link to it on youtube below, but make sure to remove the spaces! And the second (but by no means lesser) was my friend and "alpha" Struck Upon a Star. I wrote this story entirely for her, and without all her help, it would suck. Majorly. So tremendous thanks to you, SUAS. And if you haven't read her stories, you are doing yourself a serious disservice. So get over there and read them. Now. You will not regret it. **

**As always, review and let me know what you think. And thanks for reading!**

"_I could possibly be fading_

_Or have something more to gain_

_I could feel myself growing colder_

_I could feel myself under your fate."_

-"Into Dust," by Mazzy Star

http : // www. youtube. com/ watch?v = TyQ9lUe- d3I

I tilted my head back affording him better access to my throat. I could feel his lips curve into a small, almost nonexistent smile in between kisses against the skin of my neck. I hadn't known that I was capable of feeling the way I did then; I had no idea that bodies could be the vessels of so much fire. Every so often I would get a stab of lust, and know it was his. It caused me to gasp, and his lips would smile against my throat again in response. It made me smile, too, just the ecstasy of such intimate moments. His long fingers snaked up into the ends of my short hair just before he raised his head, bringing me into a kiss. When our lips met, I thanked the stars that I had eternity, that my time with this man would never run dry. Never would I mourn if he passed before me; never would I have to entertain such ideas. And that is reason enough to be grateful for all the ages of the world to pass.

He broke away from our steadily intensifying kiss, his coppery eyes meeting my own. No words were needed, just a glance from him filled with love, concern and certainty. The perpetually rolling wave of desire, love and determination peaked in that one moment—it was only a matter of time before it crashed. With the spark of resolve that ripped through us, we had decided. It was happening. Tonight.

He leaned me gently back against the pillows on the hotel bed, cradling me like I might break into pieces. Despite the rush of emotions between us, a cold current built slowly throughout me, crawling through my empty veins in a sickening way. Fear. I assumed it was only natural to feel afraid before…_this_. I wondered if he felt it. Futilely, I attempted to squelch it, reveling in the warmth I could glean from his hands, from his desire.

His hand worked its way slowly up my skirt, grazing the skin just above my knee. The physical contact, the touch of his fingers against my sensitive skin, seemed almost enough to replace the building fear with which it contended. Yet something whispered to me from the insecure core at the back of my mind. _Why does it feel so good? Why is __he__ so good? And why aren't I? How have his hands come to be so skilled?_

_Maria._

I pictured her dark hair flowing in rivulets down her tan, bare shoulders, cascading past breasts that were sure to be fuller than mine.

_Had her skin been softer?_

Jasper slowly, teasingly, moved his hands further, caressing gently the skin of my thigh. _Were her thighs more full, more voluptuous than mine? Were her curves more feminine than my thin frame? _His lips continued their path along my neck as I felt bullets of lust shoot through me—his lust.

"Alice," he groaned, his voice low and husky with desire._ Had he whispered her name against the skin of her neck? _As he reached up to recapture my mouth in a kiss, I bolted up, quicker than I'd anticipated. I curled my legs up into to my chest, overwhelmed by the ghosts of a past that wasn't mine. In one fluid motion I returned the hem of my dress to a decent level and pushed myself away, up towards the headboard of the bed as though it would hide me. In that constant conduit of feelings I could feel his confusion, hurt, and rejection mingling with my own inadequacy; all traces of warmth were gone and were instead replaced with that dull cold and a lump in my throat.

"Alice," he whispered softly, the edge gone from his voice. His hand clasped over mine. I knew he wanted me to open my hands to him, to take him in and hold him. But I couldn't. I couldn't move. I couldn't move, not knowing that she'd been first.

The traitorous tears that would never fallwracked my shoulders nonetheless, and a sigh more jagged than I'd hoped escaped me. I couldn't look at him. I wanted to. But I couldn't. He sighed as he started to rub his temples, radiating defeat.

"I'm sorry," he said, his voice encapsulating all the hurt I felt inside. He shouldn't be apologizing. He hadn't knowingly done anything to harm me. He did what he needed to do. It was my fault, my insecurity that had brought us to this inescapable point.

"No…I'm just—" my voice trailed off. I didn't know what I wanted to say. I tried to let him know by feeling, but mostly I just wanted to be alone, to gather my scattered thoughts and rid myself of the offensive need to cry.

"Alice, I'd never force this on you. Ever."

"No, I've seen it. I've seen it so many times, and it's…it's going to be so good. I just don't know when."

"We don't have to, just because you saw it."

"But I want it…I think." He raised his eyes to mine forlornly. I was well aware of his disgusted image of himself, and knew this wasn't helping. "I'm sorry, I just…need time to think."

"Of course," he nodded, getting up from the bed and walking across the room, running distressed fingers through his matted curls. He sighed, before spitting out, "It's her, isn't it?"

I didn't deny him, but I couldn't answer him either. Of course it was. He knew that. But I didn't know how to tell him, didn't know if I should. It wasn't technically his fault. My thoughts ran together in a maddening blur, and the need to get away overtook me.

"I need to hunt," I said quietly. It wasn't a lie. He turned sharply, and I felt pangs of his shock, horror, heartbreak.

"Come back," was all he said, his eyes wild with pleading. I managed to break a half-hearted smile.

"Of course I'll be back." I got up and put on shoes before stealthily making my way out the first storey window, and onto the empty street below. I wasn't in the mood to deal with questioning stares of the hotel night staff in the lobby. I wasn't sure where my feet were taking me. My mind felt strangely detached and my heart even more so. I couldn't shake the stabbing emotions I'd caused Jasper that night from my mind or my body: the hurt, the disappointment, the reaffirmation of his own worst fears. I inhaled deeply the cold night air hoping it would afford me clarity. With the breath I picked up the distant gamey scent of deer in the woods bordering the town. Checking to make sure I wasn't in eyesight of any humans, I bolted, letting the vampiric instincts I work so hard to suppress come forth in a shocking display of speed and strength. Within mere seconds I was in the heart of the woods, closer to the deer.

Was I thirsty? No. Not remotely. But suddenly, all the sadness that threatened to drown me shifted into anger. Rage. For that woman. I know I had sworn differently to Jasper, but if I ever encountered her, I would tear her to bits, and enjoy every second of it.

The scent of the nearby deer stung my nose, and fists I hadn't realized I had clenched unwound as every part of my consciousness devoted itself to the hunt. Blindly, I ran after my prey and moments later, had it trapped beneath my small, but lethal, hands. I felt the soft fur writhing beneath my fingers, desperate for escape. Delicate shoulder bones snapped under my touch, and the accelerated heartbeat throbbed in my ears, a cadence to the killing. Rage and thirst still fueling the frenzy, I sunk my sharp, venomous teeth into its neck, ripping and tearing mercilessly, savoring the sensation of the warm, coppery fluid sliding down my throat. The salty liquid filled my mouth and I swallowed, deeper and deeper, as the heartbeat slowed and faded. The pelt beneath my hands stilled in turn, the struggling for escape ceasing as I fed. I drank until the animal was dry. My senses returning, I shoved the carcass away from me, disgusted. For the first time since my awakening, I was sickened by hunting. The deer hadn't deserved half the painful, throttled death it received. I sat back, crawling my way backwards away from the body, and dropping my head into my knees, I cried.

As my weeping, devoid of tears, shook my small frame, I allowed my mind to slowly start working things through.

I was afraid. Of what? Defeat. Of my own inferiority. Of rejection. From what he had said,she was _beautiful_. Jasper said I was beautiful, too, but in that moment, I didn't believe him. My child-like body, choppy hair and angular features were surely no match for_ her_ beauty.

I was angry. At what? Jasper? In a sense, yes. But he had told me, with much difficulty, about how she had stolen those moments of intimacy. And it wasn't gentle. It wasn't entirely consensual either...at least, not at first. So the blame couldn't lie entirely with him. But her…I could _loathe_ her. I could summon the fieriest emotions I'd ever felt, the ones that made me capable of great injury, and direct every last one to her.

I was guilty. For what? For making Jasper feel guilty. For bringing up, unintentionally, repercussions from his past that he didn't deserve to endure. For being so insecure in my own capabilities that I had pushed him away, after having searched for him for so long. Usually I am extremely confident in myself; the ability to see what's coming ahead of time lends itself greatly to self-assurance. But with this, I didn't know if it would be possible to release my inhibitions and get over what she'd done with him first. I knew eventually I would. I'd seen our intimacy. But I didn't know when I would be able to or how I would reach that point.

Frustrated, I resumed my crying, letting my mind's consciousness slip away into my emotions, only allowing myself to feel the pain and aggravation. I'm not sure for how long I wept, but it was long, bitter, and tearless. I hated Maria for what she did to Jasper. I hated Jasper for not having enough backbone to stand up to her. And mostly, I hated myself for being incapable of keeping the attentions of this man who I knew I loved. I hated myself for highlighting the shadows he worried so deeply about. I hated everything about myself, from my short hair to the fact that I had to sustain myself on blood. Nothing could reassure me in those moments of self-loathing.

Suddenly, the familiar snap of white light illuminated my sight and I was removed from the state of the present.

_Jasper held me close to him, and said words I couldn't hear before I pulled away and spoke to him. My words were muddled, unintelligible, except for one sentence: The only thing that matters is here and now, and what is to come. _

Angrily, I returned to the present. The vision hadn't helped me at all, except that I was assured I would eventually reach the conclusion that the past doesn't matter. My weeping ceased as I considered this conclusion.

My own past is dark and unfamiliar. I could have been anybody, done anything. What if I'd had a Maria? Even if we hadn't consummated the relationship, what if I had told someone else that I loved him? Would that have made me a horrible person? Even so, there was nothing that could be done about it now…it was irrelevant in the present. Comprehension ripped through me. _The past doesn't matter. _I didn't remember mine, and I had to do the best I could to help Jasper accept his. Not forget it; he would never forget, and I wasn't sure I wanted him to. His past was responsible for so much pain and suffering, but it also formed him into who he is today. His strength, stoicism, appreciation for simple moments of peace and joy would have been there, I'm sure. But they were strengthened because of his past. And his past, all of it, had brought him to me. And for that reason alone, I could tolerate everything that had transpired.

But not right away. It was going to be a learning process for us both, and at the present I felt bloody, small and still insecure.

I must have been there, alone in the woods, for hours. Daylight crept, pale and silver, along the tree line. I knew that I needed to get back before the unassuming humans awoke . Whereas hours earlier I'd been praising my eternal fate, I now envied _them_. I wanted to sleep, to close my eyes and forget what life held, if only for a few hours. My hands stained with blood and my mood still stained sour, I rose and ran back to the hotel, not anxious to resume where I had left off.

I crawled shamefully through the window, pleased only slightly that there would be no marks of crying visible; no puffy, red eyes or tear-stained cheeks. Only my treacherous emotions and blood-stained fingers, clothing and lips would betray me to Jasper, who stood still as stone in the center of the room. He watched as I crawled with this unholy grace through the window with ease a human could only dream of. I couldn't meet his eyes. I could not bear, in any way—words, emotions, thoughts, deeds—to hurt him again, to further his underserved pain.

I was still unsure of it myself on the road back to the hotel, but now, before him, as I watched the familiar ducking of his head—the same that had initiated the first day of the rest of our lives in a diner in Philadelphia--I was certain of only one thing. I loved him. Wholly, completely, selflessly. Too long had I waited in solitude for him to arrive in my life, and too long had I kept his own worst memories in my heart, allowing them to hinder me. To hinder us.

I could feel his eyes boring into me, and kept my own downcast. I wanted to bolt past him into the bathroom, to clean away the guilt, the blood, the shame, the jealousy. I hoped to emerge a cleaner, more loving, more willing partner for him.

"Alice, please," he nearly whispered, urgently. "Please, don't feel this way…the guilt. You've done nothing wrong. It is I who should apologize to you. For everything. My past, the wars, the blood…her. You deserve so much better, Alice. So much more."

I fought the urge to cry again. I loved Jasper, and it broke my heart to hear him berate himself. I knew he wasn't a monster. I knew he didn't love Maria, even though she was first. I knew of the abuse, the borderline rape. I knew that he didn't know any better; he had no idea there was anything else to this life aside from war. And I knew that he loved me, too. He let me feel it pouring from him every single day, and had told me so only yesterday. Before I ran.

I lifted my eyes to meet his, dark and brooding. Confidently, and with complete honesty I said the words that I needed to say yesterday, giving breath to the realization that I'd come to too late. "She has no power over me."

He released a breath I don't think he realized he'd been holding, like a sigh of relief, before I continued. "She has ruined parts of your life, and has affected parts of mine, too. The shadows of the past are something we can fight—together. We do not need to let her win." His eyes showed a flash of fierce determination before softening again, filling with love—for me. Love that _she_ never had. Love that_ I_ had won.

He took a step forward, moving slowly as though he would frighten me away. For once, I was thankful for his caution; I felt small, weak and weary. But triumphant. Finally, after more than a few moments he was before me, his hand reaching carefully for my own, like it was made of glass. Strongly, I took his in mine, the dried blood peeling away from my knuckles. He pulled me into him, wrapping both arms around me and holding me tightly. Immediately at his touch I felt love, relief, strength…everything I had lost on my own in the woods overnight. It all came returning to me, filling me and completing me, thanks to the man in my arms. I let out a sigh and with it, released the last of my animosity and dejection.

"How did I ever deserve a woman like you?" I heard his deep voice rumble against my body. "With my past and—"I smiled and pulled away so I could see his eyes, interrupting him.

"The past is unimportant. I don't remember mine. I only remember a time before you, and now that you're here, I have no need to recall it. The past, things already gone by…they don't matter. The only thing that matters is here and now, and what is to come. I know the future, and I know it's good. There's no worrying about tomorrow, because we know what that holds. And there's no sense in worrying about the past, either. So let's enjoy the present while we're here."

"God, Alice," he whispered, crushing me against himself. I closed my eyes as he buried his face in my hair. "I've waited my whole life to hear someone say that."

"And I've waited my whole life for you. All of you."

We remained locked in each other's arms throughout the rest of the day. I had a number of visions, but one of them stood out far above the rest: _He broke away from our steadily intensifying kiss, his coppery eyes meeting my own. He leaned me gently back against the pillow on the hotel bed, working his hand slowly up my skirt, grazing the skin just above my knee._

This time, I'd have nothing to fear.


End file.
